Bridges
by EGrace
Summary: I couldn't help but wonder what might have happened to get an unforgiving Henry in Wrapped to walk back in to Vicki's office in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, all set to work with her again, with a line like Have you had any dizzy spells lately?


Title: Bridges

Author: Elizabeth Grace

Dated: December 2007

Environ: Blood Ties episodes "Wrapped" and "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly"

Categories: Drama; Angst / Supplemental Scenes

Rating: "M" This short story is intended for mature audiences age 16 and older. It contains mildly explicit sexuality.

Disclaimer: Henry and the friends Ms. Huff and the show's writers have given him are not mine. No infringement is intended.

Distribution: Share and share alike, just please let me know first.

Feedback: Fire at will.

Premise: Woah! That was a little abrupt, wasn't it? So what might have happened to Henry in between those episodes to turn him around from not forgiving Vicki to dropping right down into working a case with her??

Notes: This follows my story "Aftermath," beginning at the very end of the episode "Wrapped" and ending at the very beginning of "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly." If you've read the books, you know Tony and who and what he is to Henry. He's the one thing from the books that I miss in the show, and I guess he knows that, because he showed up here. Doctor Sagara from the series also makes an appearance. I couldn't find a first name for her, so I went with Elise. Lastly, I've got to say, I would have been more than happy to see Henry and Vicki together a long time ago, but they're not there yet in the show, (Obviously! Tragically!), so they're not there yet in what I'm writing.

* * *

She was staring at him, waiting, as close to pleading as Victoria Nelson ever got, but conviction and self-righteousness held her stiffly before him, and nothing she'd said had lessened the horror and the evil of what she'd done. She still didn't understand. Or was it that she _wouldn't_ understand? Henry couldn't decide. The only thing he knew for certain was that she'd done it all to save him. And that only made everything worse. 

"I know," Henry finally said, his heart heavy and aching with regret. "And I wish I could forgive you."

Without another word he walked away. He had to. Still so much left unsaid between them, but there was far too much pain and anger and betrayal in him to do anything else. He'd hurt her with his rejection. Whatever Vicki felt for him, she cared enough to need his forgiveness. But he just couldn't give it. He didn't want to hurt her, had never wanted to hurt her, but… No. Forgiveness wasn't in him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

How could she have done this to them? What in God's name had she been_ thinking_, to be so reckless with her soul? And how could she have hurt _him_ and used _him_ to do it? Did she understand _nothing_ of who and what he was?

He'd been wrong about her. So terribly wrong. _How could he have been wrong about her?_ About them, and the future he'd been so certain they would have together?

Lost in his thoughts, Henry nearly drove back to his building. But the turn into the parking garage loomed and abruptly he realized where he was--and that he couldn't go back yet. Impatiently he pulled a sharp u-turn and a quick right, not sure where he was going except _away_. He'd left the balcony doors open to the clean night air, but Lord only knew how many nights it would take before the smell of his blood would fade enough for him to work. God, how he wanted to work, to shed the searing memories of blood and black magic and lose himself for the better part of night after night in his stories and his art. He'd regained so much of himself at Saint Joseph's, with Julia, but he wouldn't really feel whole again until he could work. Maybe then, he'd heal enough to make some decisions about Vicki. But in the meantime…

He pointed his car to the heart of the city. Tonight he wanted people, music. Bright colors and loud noise and vibrant, pulsing life. Tonight he needed to be the prince again. To walk into any club of his choosing, his power and position recognized and acknowledged. To see the crowd part before him. To deal with the men who would challenge him, the women who would pursue him, to win the spoils and bask in the admiration of his court.

He started with Cane's. The bouncer was new, the line half way around the block, but Henry drew his power around him and raised an eyebrow at the man and then he was slipping as effortlessly into the club as into the role, his first and most comfortable persona. He wore it well, as he had for centuries, keeping the mantle of power and privilege firmly in place as he moved from club to club, from one room of beautiful young men and women to the next. He worked the clubs as he hadn't since he'd met Vicki, socializing and gossiping, flattering and teasing, bestowing his favors on those who intrigued him and entertained him and sipping from the many who drew him aside to touch and kiss and would have seduced if he'd allowed it. By the time the clubs started closing he'd fed as he hadn't in years. And by the time he went home, he had almost forgotten that he'd lain helpless on his own floor. Almost.

When Henry woke the next night he tasted those first breaths of stale, closed air and that heavy, cloying scent of blood and black magic and he didn't linger. He dressed and was gone in minutes, back out to the sights and sounds of the city's nightlife. Each encounter made him feel alive again, reminding him of choices he'd made in four and a half centuries--the rules he'd made for himself, the lines he'd drawn, who and what he'd become as _vampire_. He had some regrets--how could he not, after all that time?--but he'd built a good life. He was a good man.

So what had he done wrong? How had he wound up run through with his own sword, betrayed by the woman he loved, unable to stop her from using him to darken her soul?

Another woman approached, a predatory gleam in her eye, eager to play and be played, but Henry was no longer in the mood. He needed more than this lifestyle could give him. He always had. He gave next to nothing of himself to these people--some pleasure, perhaps, but little more. They didn't know who he was, wouldn't have believed_ what_ he was. They responded to his power and gave him power in return. He needed them to survive, but there was so much more to life than merely surviving.

With charm and every sign of regret, Henry extricated himself from the crowd he'd gathered around himself and left. It was getting late, but that didn't matter to many of the people he called friends. It certainly didn't matter to Elise. She answered on the second ring.

"Henry!" she exclaimed. "How wonderful to hear from you. Is everything all right?"

Standing just outside the entrance, techno music pounding and spilling out from the club in spurts whenever the door opened, Henry closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry, Elise. It feels like I only call you any more when it isn't."

"My darling boy," she gently chided him. "We've known each other far too long and been far too many things to each other for you to think that matters in the slightest."

He laughed at the endearment, the one she'd used before she'd known his true nature and his real age, laughed again at her rebuke. "When did you become the elder of us?"

"Since I started to look old enough to be your grandmother," she tartly replied. "You know very well I enjoy the role of sage. It's why I teach. Now tell me, Henry. What's happened? What can I do?"

"Can you turn back the clock?" he softly asked, regret thickening his words. "Can you unmake something that should never have happened?"

"If only I could," she mused. "What would I go back and change? Or I suppose the question now is, what would _you_ change?"

The three minutes that had shattered his trust and his future. Or would he have to go back farther than that, to change that night and make things right?

"Could you meet me at my…" He'd almost said _home_. But the word stuck in his throat. "At my suite?" he said instead. "You'll understand when you get there."

"Give me half an hour," she said. "We sages need a little extra time to make ourselves beautiful--especially at this hour."

"Half an hour," he agreed, and couldn't resist adding, "but aren't sages supposed to be ugly old hags?"

"You're thinking of most personifications of the three Fates," she coolly corrected him.

"My mistake," he sighed loftily.

"Apology accepted. Just make sure that doorman of yours knows I'm coming."

She hung up on him, and Henry couldn't help but smile at the phone in his hand.

"Did I hear that right?" a familiar voice said, and Henry turned, his smile growing. "I didn't think you made mistakes, Henry."

"Many more than you know," he admitted, faltering. But Tony was one of his, and a lord didn't show weakness to those he protected. Henry made himself relax and grin reassuringly. "Hello, Tony."

A young man with old eyes, hardened by his life on the streets, but with a vulnerability at his core that he'd only ever shown to Vicki and eventually to Henry. Even as Henry watched Tony approach, that toughness melted at the edges and when Henry opened his arms, Tony walked straight into them.

"Where you been?" Tony prompted, clapping Henry on the shoulders and stepping back. "When I heard you were all over the clubs last night I didn't really believe it."

Henry shrugged, the year of memories wrapped up in Vicki now heavy in his heart. "I had a new hobby."

"Playing detective with Victory," Tony nodded. "You on a case now?"

Only Tony called her that. _Victory_. His stomach tightened, and Henry rubbed at the spot where she'd stabbed him. "Not a case, no. I just… needed some air."

"Air, huh?" Tony grinned, a wicked light in his eyes. "Victory still playing hard to get?"

"Hard?" Henry scoffed, frowning darkly. "Impossible."

Tony was too sharp not to hear the bitterness in his words. But there were lines that Tony, at least, wouldn't cross. He let it slide and instead gave Henry a long, intense look. Something changed in his eyes, more understanding there than Henry would have expected, and Tony took a half step closer and brought one hand up, resting it lightly on Henry's chest. "You still looking for air?"

He hadn't fed from Tony in a while. And he certainly didn't _need_ to now. But the offer was precious to him. This was why he shared the truth with people. To feel this acceptance, to make real connections. To trust and be trusted in return.

He let himself be drawn away from the club, into darkness and silence and the heat of being touched by someone who knew his truth and hadn't betrayed him. It set something off in him, an urgent hunger he hadn't anticipated, and he let it loose, pulling Tony's hands from him and twisting them around and backing Tony into the wall and then he fed after all, biting into the strong young neck, reaching between them with rough, hard strokes to bring Tony to sharp, swift orgasm.

Tony shuddered, his grip nearly bruising on Henry's arms, his body hard and young and fiercely alive against him, and Henry pressed closer and felt his own release wash over him with unexpected force. His breath was harsh in his chest, Tony's equally so in his ear, and Henry lifted his mouth from the wound, calming them both with a long, languorous lick that sealed it.

"Jesus, Henry," Tony breathed, still trembling. "What did she do?"

Henry shook his head and stepped back. This was not a burden he either could or would share with Tony. "I may have some work for you," he said instead.

Tony slowly straightened, his hands steady now as he absently righted his clothes. Again, whatever his curiosity, he let it slide. "Just tell me where and when."

"Tomorrow night," Henry replied. "Midnight mass at Saint Joseph's on Fifth."

Tony stilled, hands on his hips. "You're going to make me go to_ church_?"

Henry laughed. "Come after, then."

"All right," Tony sighed. "But I'm not wearing a tie."

"Of course not," Henry gently mocked. Then he raised his hand to warmly clasp Tony's shoulder. "Thank you, Tony."

So young, with a mere fraction of Henry's education and experience, but Henry knew Tony heard a great deal more than what he was actually saying. With a nod and a small, wry twist of his lips Tony walked away.

Henry hurried back to his building, grateful when traffic cooperated and he got there a full five minutes before the half hour he and Elise had agreed on was up. When Elise strode elegantly into the lobby, he was waiting for her there.

"Henry," she said softly, cupping his cheek with warm, gentle fingers. "I'm so glad you called."

He turned his head and pressed her fingers to his mouth. But the touch of darkness shivered through him and his grip on her hand tightened. "There's something I need your help with."

"Anything, Henry," she smiled at him. "You know that."

He did. But he couldn't quite make himself smile back. Instead Henry tucked her hand into his arm, ignoring the doorman's stare as he walked Elise across the lobby and into the elevator. The ride up seemed ridiculously long, and Henry felt himself tensing as the elevator climbed. By the time the doors opened onto his floor, he was actually reluctant to go home.

Home. It didn't feel like home any more. And that was simply intolerable. He wanted his home back. If he hadn't run from a bad dream, then he wouldn't from an odor and a handful of memories, no matter how horrifying. He steeled himself as they walked down the hall and didn't hesitate when they reached the doors, unlocking them and throwing them back.

He could still smell it. Remembered pain ghosted through him, and he clenched his fists.

Next to him Elise shivered and drew her wrap more closely around her. "What happened here, Henry?"

He told her everything in low, harsh tones, start to finish, standing there in the doorway to the place he'd so carefully created and arranged, that had once been his home and his sanctuary. Elise was appalled, her reaction a small tonic to his indignation and his anger.

"I don't feel comfortable here anymore," he finally, roughly admitted. "I can't work here--I don't even want to _be_ here."

Elise stepped in front of him, blocking his view if not his memories, her hands warm where she laid them on his chest. "We can cleanse the room. There are any number of rituals, and someone I trust implicitly to perform them. We can repaint, redecorate, put in a new floor--whatever you want. I can even arrange to change the locks for you, if that will make you feel better. But the damage she did to you… I don't know how to help you with that, Henry, except to tell you that I'm here, any time you need to talk."

Something in him eased, a tightness that he hadn't realized he carried until she began to unravel it. Henry covered her hands with his own. "Thank you, Elise."

She smiled, then briskly nodded. "We'll start with the cleansing. I can probably have Diane--"

"No," Henry interrupted. "Just you. I don't want anyone here I don't know. Not now."

"All right," she soothed, "just me. I'll need to do a little research and gather everything together. Tomorrow night, then? I can be here just after sunset."

"Please," he said, unashamed to let her see so much of him now, when he was so unsettled. But then, he didn't need to hide anything from Elise. He hadn't for a very long time. She'd been right--there was too much between them.

Henry took the time to see her back to her car, then forced himself to return to his suite. He quickly crossed to close and lock the balcony doors, then retreated once more to his bedroom to wait for dawn. As he settled himself for the day, though, Henry realized the darkness didn't press quite so heavily on him anymore. No, it should never have happened--not to him, not in his own home, most especially not at Vicki's hands and for such an awful purpose. But he'd healed his body and had taken steps to heal his mind and heart and his sanctuary. He had friends to turn to, people who hadn't betrayed him who would help him now. But what of Vicki, and everything left unsaid between them? Would he ever be able to look at her without seeing what she'd done, without feeling the echoes of it in his heart and his body… without tasting the bitterness of being used by her, of all people? He didn't know.

He was still thinking of her when the sun rose.

* * *

He came back to himself gradually, rising up from the dark, silent depths where daylight sent him. Identity surfaced, then memory, and finally the world seeped slowly in through his awakening senses. Everything in him screamed his vulnerability, but Henry controlled his fear with steely strength and took a deep breath as he opened his eyes.

Was it just his imagination, or had the strength of those horrid scents lessened? Lord, how he hoped…

He gave himself a moment, to roll to his stomach and wrap his arms around a pillow and simply, quietly rest. But Elise was probably already on her way, and he had things to do. Henry rose and called down to the doorman to let Elise come up when she arrived, then quickly showered and was just finishing dressing when he sensed her approach. He buttoned the last shirt button as he crossed to the door, pulling it open before she'd even raised her hand to knock.

"Showoff," she gently teased, and tilted her face to his for his kiss of greeting.

"I'm glad you're here," he said simply.

The ritual she'd chosen wasn't complicated, but it was powerful and compelling and felt deeply, surprizingly intimate. And when it was over, Henry sat in his _home_ and felt like he could breathe for the first time since that damned sorcerer priest had invaded his dreams and his peace in the first place. There was light in his home again, and he shuddered with the stunning force of his relief and tightly grasped Elise's hand.

"My darling boy," she sighed, and he heard the satisfaction in her voice and felt her pleasure at her success in the gentleness of her kiss against his fingers.

She didn't stay, knowing even without his having to say the words that he needed some time alone to reclaim the space and relax back into it. Henry roamed from room to room, touching his things, readjusting a lamp's placement here, a cushion there, ruffling through his mail and selecting a different book to take to his bedside. He paused for a long time at his sword, sitting there shining, and seriously considered selling it, or at least packing it away. But those moments in Vicki's hands were fleeting compared to the sword's history in his, and Henry left it there and moved on until he finally, gloriously looked over the frames he'd been working on when he'd been so wretchedly interrupted. They were good, and he sighed in bone-deep contentment as he set the pages back down. He had too much to do first, but later, he'd be able to work again. With his home returned to him, he could put this piece of his life back in place as well. But first, he had a debt to repay--two, actually. He owed both Julia and Saint Joseph's, and dealing with those obligations would be a joy he very much wanted to feel.

Henry grabbed his jacket and as he shrugged it on, he strode purposefully back to the spot where Vicki had stabbed him and he'd fallen. He stood there for a long time, remembering, but this time, he refused to allow the helplessness and the horror to overwhelm him. There was light in his home again now, and he could once more feel the light in him, and this time, he remembered so that he wouldn't ever allow anything like that to happen again.

Not even for Vicki. He'd rather die first.

With that resolved, Henry finally left, knowing that he would once more return to _his __home _when the night was done, reveling in the freedom that knowledge gave him and wanting more than anything to share that with the two people who had helped him the most.

The florist at the train station was always open late, and Henry detoured there first, arranging for a massive arrangement of Elise's favorite flowers to be delivered to her at the university the next day. _For my sage with love_, he wrote on the card, smiling to think of the pleasure he knew she would take in the grand, romantic gesture.

For Julia, though, he picked a smaller, much more simple bouquet of violets. If he'd read her right--and he was confident he had--it would always be the subtle, more intimate gestures that Julia would appreciate the most.

He had no problems finding her small row home again, although parking quickly became an issue. He finally tucked his car into a spot at Saint Joseph's, almost four blocks away. But the night air felt good on his skin and the sky was astonishingly clear, and Henry enjoyed his stroll back. Until he turned the corner and his superior senses picked up the sights and sounds of Julia and a man arguing with a quiet, yet fierce intensity on the sidewalk in front of her home.

He saw the anger in their gestures as the man loomed over her and she held her ground tensely at the foot of the stairs, heard it in their voices as he insisted she let him in and take him back and she flatly denied him--on both counts. Henry paused, giving Julia the chance to stand up for herself and the man the chance to respect her enough to leave. But then the man's posture changed and Henry sensed the dark, indignant intent filling him and smelled the fear growing in her and he knew this would end badly if he didn't intervene. He tucked the violets into his inner coat pocket, not willing to let this man ruin even that small a thing for Julia, and used his power to speed him down the block until he was a few feet away. Then Henry stepped out of the darker shadows where the light at her door didn't reach and gently called her name.

They whirled, and Henry saw everything in one searing glance--the man's sharp resentment and furious shock, Julia's surprize and pleasure and relief and then her discomfort and the first hints of shame, that he should find her in the middle of something so private and so ugly.

Henry smiled for her, calmly, giving her a moment to understand that she was safe now, that she wasn't alone, and that it was still her choice how this would play out.

"Who the hell are you?" the man growled, unconsciously stepping back.

"Henry," Julia sighed unsteadily, and then her eyes warmed and that lovely smile he remembered blossomed on her face and she held her hand out to him and it shook him that she looked so much like she had when he'd first met her on the steps of Saint Joseph's. Only this time, she was the one who needed some help. And this time, he had more than enough strength to give it.

He took her hand and stepped intimately close, raising the fingertips of his other hand to brush her hair behind her ear and graze the line of her jaw and finally, when she didn't pull away or give him even the remotest hint that it wasn't what she wanted right there and then, he tucked his fingers under her chin and raised her mouth to his.

It was a lover's kiss, deep and sure, an unmistakable claiming, and even as Julia softened into him and everything he was offering her, the other man stiffened in sudden rage. Henry gently broke the kiss and turned and backed the man off with nothing more than the fury of his gaze.

"Please, Rick," Julia said. She wasn't afraid now, but she did sound exhausted. "Just go--and this time, don't come back. I can't keep playing this game with you. I _won't_. You take too much."

Rick's face darkened, and Henry shifted to place Julia more fully behind him, his intention plain.

"This isn't over," Rick snarled. He would have turned, would have stalked away--and he would have come back after Henry had gone. But Henry seized the man's mind in a brutal grip, slashing through his thoughts and intent and stopping him in his tracks.

"You will leave," he said harshly, "and you will not return without Julia's express invitation. You will do _nothing_ to harm her or allow harm to come to her. _Do you understand?_"

"Yeah," Rick shuddered, and even though Henry's control was absolute, he could sense the anger still circling in the other man. Henry ruthlessly tightened his hold on Rick's mind until pain and fear overwhelmed the anger and Rick finally stiffened in real understanding of the threat and the promise that Henry wouldn't put into words in front of Julia.

"I'm going," Rick gasped, shaking now, and with a vicious mental thrust to hurry him on his way, Henry released him. He watched with a great deal of satisfaction as Rick stumbled off while behind him, pressed close, her hand still in his, Julia took a long, deep breath, the tension in her easing.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Rick was finally out of sight, and Henry was finally certain he wouldn't be a problem to Julia any more. He loosed his anger and his power and turned back to her with nothing more than warmth in his gaze and a gentle smile on his face. "It was my pleasure."

"I think you mean that," she laughed, still a little shaky.

He felt his smile growing, and raised an eyebrow at her. "Would it bother you if I did?"

"I guess not," she managed, glancing away, down the block to where Rick had disappeared, and he felt the fine shiver that ran through her. As strong as she'd been, she _knew_ how close Rick had been to losing control.

Henry smoothed his hands down her arms and shifted closer, drawing her gaze back to his. "He won't bother you again, Julia. You have my word."

She stilled, her lips parting as she searched the depths of his eyes. "I think you mean that, too."

She'd seen him at one of the lowest points of his long, long life. Now she saw the prince. Henry straightened, arrogance and power and an unerring assurance that he would be obeyed in his stance. "I wouldn't have given you my word otherwise."

"Why?" she breathed, touching his face with tentative fingers. "I mean, I didn't even expect to see you again, Henry."

"If you want me to go, I will," he promised her. "No scene, no arguments, no questions asked. But if the choice is mine, then make no mistake--I want to be here with you. You're already a part of me, Julia. One that I don't want to lose."

She smiled, but sorrow welled in her eyes, liquid and glistening, and thickened her voice. "There are things you should know about me before you say things like that, Henry. My life is so complicated…"

He looked at her, staring sadly up at him, braced for rejection, willing to trust him with her truths even if it meant he would leave, and Henry realized with a sharp, swelling ache in his chest that he could do no less. Vicki had shattered his trust _in her_--but he couldn't, _wouldn't_, allow what she'd done to stop him from trusting others.

He cupped her face tenderly with both hands and brushed his lips feather-light over hers. "There are things I want you to know about me, too. But I think we already know what's most important about each other, and that's enough for now. We have time for all the rest."

"Are you sure about that?" Julia shuddered, suddenly clinging to his hands as if they were the only things holding her together. "Sometimes it takes all I have not to run away from all these responsibilities."

Henry slowly shook his head. "You're not the kind who runs."

She closed her eyes for a long moment, and when she opened them again there was so much turmoil in those shimmering depths that Henry sucked in a startled breath. "Julia?"

"I didn't think I was, but… Everybody has their breaking point," she said heavily.

Words to soothe her rose in him, that she was strong and he would be there for her, but Vicki was strong and he'd been there for her… and she'd stabbed him and used him and pushed him right up to the edge of_ his_ breaking point.

"I know," he softly, sadly replied. "But I don't want you to have to deal with yours. Not if I can help it. I promise you, Julia, if there's anything you need that is in my power to give, then you'll have it. All I ask is that you'll come to me _before_ you do anything you might regret."

For the first time that night, hope flickered in her eyes. But she took a deep breath and pursed her lips and that strength rose up in her, resolve settling over her as she pulled his hands gently from her face and leaned tensely away from him. "I can't let you make that huge a promise to me, Henry. You have no idea what you'd be letting yourself in for if you--"

"It's already done," he said, and pulled her gently but inexorably into his embrace, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her next to his heart. He had no idea what she was talking about. But he'd told her it didn't matter, and he'd meant it. "I'm here. Whatever you need, I'm here. I swear it."

She shifted restlessly against him, trembling, her hands fisting in the folds of his jacket. "My God, Henry," she softly swore. She raised her head from his chest, a desperate longing suddenly in those sad, beautiful eyes. "You have no idea how badly I want to believe you--to count on you like that and _know_ that you won't disappoint me like everyone else has. But you still haven't even told me _why_."

He hadn't, he realized. Not really. Henry took a deep breath. "And you have no idea how completely lost I was that night. If you hadn't been there I honestly don't know what I would have done. But you held out your hand to a complete stranger and you helped me believe in myself again. Is it really so hard for you to believe that I want to do that for you?"

"You think you _owe_ me?" she gasped, her eyes widening. "Henry, you gave me more in that one night than everyone else in my life _ever_ has."

"Then why should we stop?" he pressed, unable to keep a raw, rough edge from his voice. "Why _shouldn't_ we be able to count on each other and know there's at least one person in our lives who will do their damnedest to _never_ disappoint us?"

Her lips parted, and for long, achingly painful moments those eyes weighed what she saw in his with a haunting thoroughness. "Where do you find that kind of faith?" she whispered.

"I found it in my heart," he managed, "when I didn't believe I would ever feel it again. Because I saw it in yours."

She shook her head, unable to speak, but as her eyes filled it was hope that shone there the brightest and Henry knew he'd won a place in her life--one that she'd never given to anyone else. When she raised a shaking hand to his face he grabbed it and pressed a fierce kiss to her palm and then he took her mouth in a long, rapturous blending, softness and strength, need and trust, hope and relief.

All too soon he remembered where they were, everything else that needed to be done, and he gentled his mouth on hers and eased slowly, reluctantly back. She was smiling, almost laughing, and Henry raised a silent eyebrow.

"You smell like violets," she softly confessed.

"They're for you," he did laugh, and pulled them from his pocket. He'd been right--she buried her face in them, smiling in wonder at the simple gesture.

Julia tried to straighten a stem that hadn't survived his pocket and shook her head. "I couldn't believe it was you."

"I came to see if you'd go to midnight mass with me. Will you?"

"I wish I could," she said, breathing deeply over the flowers again. "But I'll never make it up that late, Henry."

"Been a long day?" he gently prompted, reaching to brush her hair behind her shoulders.

"Almost endless," she sighed. But there wasn't nearly as much sorrow in her voice any more.

He smoothed his hands to her elbows. "Then perhaps I should tuck you in." He went for the grand, romantic gesture anyway, sweeping her off her feet and into his arms, smiling to hear her shriek of surprize and her delighted laughter.

If their loving had been full of comfort and healing before, tonight it was full of promises, given and received, soothing his soul but igniting a firestorm of need and claiming and fierce protectiveness that he made no effort to deny. He drove her up in a dizzying rush, his mouth and his hands urgent and slickly relentless, his skin hot against hers, his body tense and hard, until she tore her mouth from his, her voice splintered as she begged, clutching at him, her body arching high and aggressively demanding, and he covered her, filled her, rocked her in a relentless, spiraling rhythm until she shattered beneath him and he finally let his own, devastating release sweep him under.

He let Julia tumble gently into sleep then, safe in his arms, and lingered to watch her. And there, finally, in the comfort and warmth of another woman's bed, his promises to her fresh in his mind and heart, her trust unmistakable and irrefutable, he knew he had to go back to Vicki.

He'd invited her into his world, and when the demon had marked her he'd made promises, to himself and to her, to protect her from the darkness whenever it got too close. After all, those marks and everything that came of them were partly his fault, for involving her instead of shielding her from the truth of what had been happening. He'd seen her goodness and her strength, been drawn to her spirit and bravery and beauty, and hadn't hesitated for even the smallest instant before he'd shared his deepest secret with her and asked for her help against Asteroth. Since that moment he'd stepped without question or doubt between her and demons and zombies and every manner of evil spirit. What he hadn't expected--hadn't even imagined--was that she'd reach for the darkness of her own free will. _That_ he couldn't protect her from. No matter how badly he wanted to.

And oh, how he wanted to. Because he'd fallen, without question or doubt, deeper and deeper in love with her with every single passing night. He'd waited, he'd wooed, he'd allowed her farther into his heart than even Christina had gotten. But in the end, Vicki hadn't trusted him enough to give up even the smallest fraction of her fiercely guarded control. Not to love him, not even to make him a partner in her business. And most importantly, not to save him.

Why? _Why?_

Did she feel so much for him that she'd let her fear for his safety force her into a miserably bad choice? Did she care so _little_ that his wishes hadn't even come into it? Or had that been guilt, plain and simple, that she'd rushed into Norman's apartment that night without waiting for him and gotten herself marked and been drawing evil to the city and the "people she cared most about" ever since?

Was_ that_ what he would have needed to go back and change?

He almost laughed out loud at the appalling, stunning irony of it all. Victoria Nelson let _no one_ make decisions for her. She'd rushed in and put herself in darkness' path that night in Norman's apartment, and _she'd reached for it of her own free will_ that night in his. He could protect her from now until kingdom come from the evil without, but he had no power against the darkness she willingly allowed within.

Nevertheless, he had to go back, had to at least _try_ to guard her from the evil that would surely walk through the door she'd opened. He'd promised.

But… Could he make her understand? Could he… forgive? Was there any way for them to move forward from this and claim a future together after all?

He had no idea. But he wanted, after everything, to try. He simply loved her too much not to.

Not tonight, though. He still had to get to Saint Joseph's, and after, he needed to work. Henry pressed a soft kiss to Julia's cheek and carefully slid from her embrace and her bed as she slept, tucking the covers around her as he did. He dressed quickly, then scribbled a note on his card and propped it against the little vase where she'd put the violets. _I have to try to forgive her, but I won't be far. Call if you need me._

Henry let himself out and made brisk work of the walk to Saint Joseph's, sliding into a pew mere moments before the mass began. It was the Father Michael Julia had mentioned, not the Father Anthony he remembered, but it was the same mass he'd celebrated for centuries. Henry let the familiar words wash over him, hearing them in Latin in his head, making the responses in that same ancient language because it somehow had always felt more respectful that way. He knew when Tony arrived, slipping quietly in the back, and when the mass finally finished Henry made his way to Tony's side.

"I like the tie," Henry grinned.

"Shut up," Tony squirmed, but he said the words without heat. "What am I here for?"

Henry retrieved the envelope folded neatly in his pocket and passed it to him. "There's a check in there for the church. It should be enough to cover what they still need to repair the roof and refurbish all of the stained glass windows. The cash in there is for you, for acting as my agent. I want you to stop by regularly and check in with Father Michael to see how the repairs are going and whether they need more money. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure, Henry," Tony nodded. He pulled restlessly at his tie. "Look, you know I'll do whatever daytime stuff you need, but if this church is usually open this late, why aren't you taking care of this yourself?"

"Because I may be very busy with Vicki," Henry sighed, "and I need someone I can trust to see this through for me."

Tony frowned. "You say that like she's in trouble."

Henry met Tony's worried stare, not bothering to hide the worry in his. "She opened a door she shouldn't have, Tony. I don't know what's going to try to walk through."

"But you'll be there for her--right?"

Henry straightened. "For as long as I'm able." It was the first time he'd ever put a condition on his promise to Vicki. But she'd pushed him so horribly close to the breaking point he'd never thought to have with her…

Tony, however, had heard what he needed to hear. "Fair enough," he sighed. "So you want me to keep you posted, or just call if there's a problem?"

"Whatever you think is necessary," Henry said evenly. "I trust you."

Tony's forthright gaze warmed. "Don't be such a stranger, then. I mean, you _are_ making me go to church."

"I'll see what I can do," Henry grinned. He clapped Tony on the shoulder in silent farewell and slipped out as Tony crossed to Father Michael and then he was on his way _home_.

When he walked through his own front doors the peace that slid gently over him took the breath from him and nearly sent him to his knees. Henry stood there in the doorway for long moments, soaking that peace in, letting it fill him until he could walk calmly past the spot where he'd fallen. He threw his coat down then and eagerly picked up his markers and gave himself joyfully over to his work. By the time he slipped into bed to await the dawn he'd inked three full pages and was well on his way to a fourth… and somehow, despite his focus and all his best intentions, he also had an entire speech planned for when he next saw Vicki.

That night, he thought, as the sun crept toward the horizon and his mind and body slowed. He'd go as soon as he woke. Or perhaps as soon as he'd finished that fourth page. After all, Vicki wasn't the only thing he loved--any more than he was the only man she had _feelings_ for. Nor was protecting her his only obligation. But now that Elise had cleansed the suite and he'd seen Julia and set Tony to look after Saint Joseph's, his work was the only thing that couldn't really wait. He was, at least on paper, on a deadline.

Henry pulled the sheet higher and went over the speech again, changed it a bit here and there to try and preclude any of the interruptions Vicki might make, then frowned at himself. As if he could actually _manage_ Victoria Nelson.

"Hah," he murmured, eyes closed as he laughed at himself. When had a frontal assault ever worked on Vicki? Maybe he should play it cool, even make her sweat a little--see if she'd work to earn his forgiveness. As long as he didn't lose his focus and start with something stupid like _Have you had any dizzy spells lately?_ Sometimes the woman just made it so damned difficult for him to_ think_--

Dawn broke, and wrenched consciousness away.

* * *

I think I've got one more short story I'd like to write, possibly two, about Henry's decision to leave. But I don't know how much farther than that I'll go until we know if someone at The Powers That Be has a brain and decides to bless us with more episodes. At least I've got something to write while we're waiting… Comments?  



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